pixies
prance ere cockcrow
amidst fine sterling trees,
but, dreams will come when morning’s glow
is known
——
57 is an older cinquain.
Category Archives: cinquain
Cinquain/LXXXII
those beets
smell foul, like feet
encased in dirty sheets;
thank you, but I’ll just stick to meat
and wheat!
—–
When I was a little girl, I really disliked beets. Now, I will consume them with pleasure. I suppose that my taste buds had to mature in order to enjoy them.
Is there a traditional Thanksgiving food that you have/had an aversion to? If you eat this food now, what swayed your taste buds into liking it? Merely the passage of time? I would be interested to hear your stories.
Happy Thanksgiving to my fellow Americans! I hope that you are able to spend the day with loved ones–whether that means family, friends, or both.
Cinquain/LXXX
mistakes
and false fancies
betray the feisty fakes
who have been attempting to seize
our keys
Cinquain/LXXIV
black veil,
who is beneath
your silk, adumbral wale?
such bewitching crimson lips wreathe
her teeth!
Cinquain/LXX
lush grapes
line the pathways
that we aimlessly traipse
along, beneath sun’s thrashing rays
today
Cinquain/LXVIII
mystic
echoes bounced round
crazed, frightened faces, thick
with dread as screeching manes crowned
the sound
Cinquain/LXVI
Oh, did
you realize
that behind yon turbid
welkin, glide sprites who stabilize
grim skies?
Cinquain/LXIV
“Soon, lunch
for the children,”
Ma squawked with cheerful punch,
while beheading a husky hen
for ten.
Cinquain/LXII
Oh Love,
do be silent,
for, there, prowling above
this den, is the spy who was sent
from Kent
Cinquain/LX
tiger
flames fall upon
her skeletal shoulder
as this dolorous antiphon
drags on
